


Scrambled Eggs

by the_genderman



Series: Trans Steve 'Verse [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Medical Procedures, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve Really Doesn't Like Going to the Doctor, Trans Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 04:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11305749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Steve doesn’t like doctors visits. He drags Sam along with him. Content warning: the doctor who Steve is visiting is a gynecologist. I’m not going to go into super explicit detail, but just so y’all know what to expect.





	Scrambled Eggs

“Sammy, baby. Pleeeease?” Steve said, putting on his best puppy-dog eyes.

“It’s a routine check-up, Steve. You weren’t like this when you were in the hospital after the helicarriers went down,” Sam said.

“Yeah, because I was unconscious and/or on narcotic pain meds. I didn’t care because I was incapable of caring. This is different.”

“You made the appointment yourself. Why are you trying to get out of it now?”

“Because I don’t like doctors visits. I only made this appointment because I got worried. I mean, it was only spotting, but I haven’t bled since 1942. I freaked out a little.”

“That’s a pretty good reason for freaking out a little, so go keep your appointment.”

“But it’s stopped now and I’m feeling better and I don’t want to go anymore. For a majority of my unfrozen life, having to call the doctor usually also meant calling the priest, just in case. We couldn’t afford the doctor unless it got _really_ bad. I never really got past that association,” Steve explained.

Sam sighed. Sometimes he forgot that Steve used to be small and sickly and poor. Tagging along would mean rearranging his schedule, putting off painting the bathroom until Tuesday, but he could make it work. If it meant this much to Steve to have him along, he’d do it.

“Alright. I’ll come with you. But you’ve gotta help me cook dinner tonight. You’re gonna have to make up for dragging me along to your gyno visit. I feel weird being there.”

“And I _don’t_? I’m the one who’s gonna be getting poked and prodded where the sun don’t shine,” Steve kvetched. “If you don’t come with me, I’m gonna call and cancel.”

“Nuh-uh, Steve. Don’t hold _me_ responsible for _your_ health,” Sam said, but he was already getting his jacket and keys.

“Thank you, Sammy. You’re the best,” Steve said, leaning in to give Sam a peck on the cheek.

“Oh, I know I am. And you _will_ be making up for this.”

——————————

The waiting room was just as awkward has Sam had expected it to be. He had a back-issue of Home and Garden on his lap, only half reading the recipes. Steve had his left hand in a death-grip, seemingly fearful that if he let go, Sam would be out the door to wait in the car. Sam wouldn’t do that to him. As uncomfortable as he was with the ‘what are _they_ doing here?’ stares, Steve was clearly even more uncomfortable, if the sheer amount of hand sweat was any indication. Sam could feel his fingers starting to prune.

The nurse opened the door and called “Rogers? You can come back, now.”

Steve stood up, still not releasing Sam’s hand.

——

The nurse stepped out of the room to allow Steve to change into his paper gown in relative privacy.

“Shouldn’t the serum take care of any and all health problems?” Sam asked. “It’s not nanobots, it doesn’t have any kind of intelligence. It shouldn’t be able to distinguish between one set of organs and another, right?”

“Theoretically, yes. But it was designed for use on a soldier, a cis man. It wasn’t tested with ovaries et cetera in mind. Maybe that little bit of blood was just my body healing itself (yeah, ok, I did get punched pretty hard), but maybe it wasn’t. And if it wasn’t, then I probably should get it looked into,” Steve replied.

Sam gave Steve an ‘I told you so’ look.

“What?” Steve asked. “ _Oh_. I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to get me to admit that I’m doing the right thing in keeping my appointment. How do you keep doing this to me?”

“You will argue anything, Steve. I just have to get you going in the right direction that you agree to help yourself before you realize what you’re doing. And you know what? It works. Every time.”

——

Sam was reading a pamphlet about IUDs and trying not to laugh at Steve as the doctor asked him questions about his (their) sex-life. Steve was more than capable in the bedroom, but he could not talk about it without going tomato red and developing a temporary stutter.

“When was your last pap smear?” the doctor asked.

“Uh, um, never,” Steve answered.

“Since you’re sexually active, it’s recommended that you have a pap smear at least every three years if there are no abnormal results. And I should inform you that testosterone is not considered an effective form of birth control.”

“We, ah, don’t do, don’t have, um, _that_ kind of sex,” Steve mumbled.

“What he’s trying to say,” Sam interjected, putting down the brochure, “is that he’s got a rubber dick and I’m the one taking it. We can put a condom on it, if that’s what you recommend.”

“Yes, thank you Sam,” Steve said, rolling his eyes and somehow blushing even redder.

Sam was pretty sure the doctor was suppressing a laugh.

They finished the checklist without further incident.

——

“I know no one likes this part, but it’s time for me to ask you to lie down and put your feet in the stirrups and try to get comfortable,” the doctor said to Steve.

Steve lay back, scooted up to the edge of the exam table, and reached his hand out to Sam. Sam took it and squeezed reassuringly.

“This is going to be a little cold,” the doctor explained. 

Steve gave a quiet whimper. Sam was now feeling that he definitely made the right choice by agreeing to come along. Steve was in genuine distress here. 

“Hey,” Sam said, rubbing Steve’s knuckles with his thumb. “You’re gonna be fine. Everything’s gonna turn out ok.”

“Ow!” Steve cried out.

“I’m almost done, please try not to squirm,” the doctor said.

Steve yelped again and squeezed Sam’s hand hard. Sam feared for his fingers.

“Alright, all done,” the doctor said. “We’ll have your results within a couple business days. We’ll call you for a followup if there’s anything abnormal. We’ll be billing your insurance for a routine wellness check-up. If there’s any difficulty, if they don’t want to cover it, call me, and I’ll see what we can do. I’ve found that insurance companies tend to dispute claims where the patient’s gender marker doesn’t ‘match’ the procedure. I say that if you need it, they should cover it, regardless.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, finally releasing Sam’s hand and sitting up slowly.

Sam clenched his jaw, feeling the blood returning to his fingers.

—————————

Steve sat down gingerly in the passenger seat of Sam’s car.

“You didn’t look so hot in there,” Sam commented. “Was it really that bad? I have seen you get hit by a grenade and not look nearly as uncomfortable.”

“Yes, it was,” Steve muttered. “ _You_ try having someone poke you in the cervix. It’s _not_ pleasant.”

“Hmm, yeah, don’t have one of those,” Sam laughed and shook his head.

Steve gave Sam’s shoulder a gentle shove.

“Well, I _don’t_.”

“I’m taking a nap when we get back,” Steve said. “Wake me up when it’s time to cook.”

“I’m thinking we might have scrambled eggs for dinner, in recognition of your ordeal,” Sam said, grinning as he glanced over at Steve.

“And you say _my_ jokes are bad,” Steve mock-groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> So far all of my trans!Steve fics have been Steve/Bucky, but I also ship Steve/Sam, so I'm adding this. I may or may not make another series for any trans!Steve/Sam fics I write after this. I found it in my Tumblr and decided to bring it over, too. April 2017.
> 
> Edit, 26JUN2017: I just realized that it kinda sounds from this snippet like an unfair division of labor in their household, but I promise it's not. Steve did most of the rippind out of the old bathroom fixtures and installation of the new ones, and Sam's doing the repainting because it was supposed to happen on the day of Steve's doctor's appointment.
> 
> Imagine:  
> Sam: "I thought you said you weren't feeling good?"  
> Steve: "I'm not."  
> Sam: "Then why are you still ripping out the sink?"  
> Steve: "Because this is when I said I'd do it, this is when I should do it."
> 
> Because you _know_ Steve would work through injury and/or illness.


End file.
